Valkhara
I was lying on the floor.
Not gracefully. Not dramatically. Just… flat.
Wrapped in a thick blanket, hair still crusted with blood from the Mirror Chamber, one eye cracked open as I stared at the ceiling like it might offer divine answers.
It did not.
Sevrin sat in the corner sharpening a blade...again.
Azric paced near the balcony, pausing only to glance at me every few seconds like he wasn’t sure if I’d combust or throw up.
I didn’t blame him. I wasn’t sure either.
The burn from the Trial still lingered under my skin. Not physical, but magical. Emotional.
Worse.
The bond with Sevrin and Azric pulsed low in my chest, steady but heavy. And beneath all of that?
Something else.
A faint pulse.
Distant. Unsteady.
Not from either of them.
Not mine.
But still... connected
